Sometimes I really wish I could freeze time. If I could take moments in my life and relive them again and again, I would not feel so sad when these moments are over. This is particularly true with the time I spend with my kids. My 16-month old daughter is at this incredibly cute age where her world is one huge exploration. She's a little Marco Polo setting off around the house with her Charlie Chaplin-like gait bringing back all of her fascinating discoveries - a dried pea from the dining room floor; a marker with the cap missing and the tip looking mysteriously sucked on (her purple lips and tongue being the dead giveaway); my husband's left shoe; some crumpled receipts and the AAA card from my wallet. If I could only freeze time and she could stay this age forever because I know I will yearn for these moments in just a few short years, or even months. Every month that she gets older, I think "I love this age! I wish she could stay like this forever!"
I have to admit, though, that I don't quite feel the same way about recent moments with my three-year old son. It's as if on his third birthday, he suddenly decided to switch majors and go for his bachelor's in beastliness with a minor in whining - and we all think he'll graduate with honors. He argues for the sake of arguing, screams at the top of his lungs when things don't go his way (which seems to be always), and barks orders from his Elmo couch like he's some little Napoleon. And the arguments - every single one of them - are entirely irrational. Typically, this is how they all go:
Me: Jacob, don't run into me with your scooter. It's not nice and it hurts when you do that.
Jacob: No, it doesn't. I like running into you. I
want to run into you with my scooter. Mommy, don't walk away from me! I want to run into you!
Me: Jacob, you need to ask for milk without whining.
Jacob (whining): No... I liiiiike whining! It's not annnnoying!
And it goes on and on - day in and day out. He turned three in June and I'm wondering how I'm going to survive the next nine months until he turns four. Everything, at this point, is banking on four. He'll be more rational when he's four, he won't meltdown in the middle of restaurants when he's four, and he won't whine when he's four. Call it denial, but that's what I have to tell myself when I'm on the phone with my husband begging him to come home early - or worse, threatening to sell our son on craigslist.
A girlfriend of mine whose son is also three, mentioned a book she bought titled "Your Three Year Old: Friend or Enemy". I immediately went to Amazon.com and purchased it. And everything written is true, which made me feel a little better. Three year olds assert their independence - check; they're willful - check; and they're rebellious - check. The problem is the author doesn't give a lot of advice on how to deal with this newfound rebellion and power of wills. She literally writes, "try to keep in mind that this too will pass!" Gee, thanks!
But the author is right. It
will pass and though three can be a wretched age, it is not without its tender moments. Just today, I was driving my kids to gymnastics class and my daughter reached across the backseat and grabbed Jacob's hand. And he said, as sweetly as can be, "you wanna hold my hand, girlie? Okay!" And they held hands. And later, we went to the grocery store and I sat them side by side in the double shopping cart. My daughter leaned over to Jacob and stuck her lips out and made this "mmmmm" sound as if she were saying, "give me a kiss". And Jacob turned and kissed her on the cheek and said "I love you, Sasha". And I didn't know if I wanted to laugh, cry, or take a picture, but I did know that I really do wish I could freeze time.